Poor Washington gradually woke up to the fact that he too was an intellectual marvel as well as his gifted sister.  He could not conceive how it had come about (it did not occur to him that the gossip about his family’s great wealth had any thing to do with it).  He could not account for it by any process of reasoning, and was simply obliged to accept the fact and give up trying to solve the riddle.  He found himself dragged into society and courted, wondered at and envied very much as if he were one of those foreign barbers who flit over here now and then with a self-conferred title of nobility and marry some rich fool’s absurd daughter.  Sometimes at a dinner party or a reception he would find himself the centre of interest, and feel unutterably uncomfortable in the discovery.  Being obliged to say something, he would mine his brain and put in a blast and when the smoke and flying debris had cleared away the result would be what seemed to him but a poor little intellectual clod of dirt or two, and then he would be astonished to see everybody as lost in admiration as if he had brought up a ton or two of virgin gold.  Every remark he made delighted his hearers and compelled their applause; he overheard people say he was exceedingly bright—­they were chiefly mammas and marriageable young ladies.  He found that some of his good things were being repeated about the town.  Whenever he heard of an instance of this kind, he would keep that particular remark in mind and analyze it at home in private.  At first he could not see that the remark was anything better than a parrot might originate; but by and by he began to feel that perhaps he underrated his powers; and after that he used to analyze his good things with a deal of comfort, and find in them a brilliancy which would have been unapparent to him in earlier days—­and then he would make a note, of that good thing and say it again the first time he found himself in a new company.  Presently he had saved up quite a repertoire of brilliancies; and after that he confined himself to repeating these and ceased to originate any more, lest he might injure his reputation by an unlucky effort.

He was constantly having young ladies thrust upon his notice at receptions, or left upon his hands at parties, and in time he began to feel that he was being deliberately persecuted in this way; and after that he could not enjoy society because of his constant dread of these female ambushes and surprises.  He was distressed to find that nearly every time he showed a young lady a polite attention he was straightway reported to be engaged to her; and as some of these reports got into the newspapers occasionally, he had to keep writing to Louise that they were lies and she must believe in him and not mind them or allow them to grieve her.

Washington was as much in the dark as anybody with regard to the great wealth that was hovering in the air and seemingly on the point of tumbling into the family pocket.  Laura would give him no satisfaction.  All she would say, was: